Page 9 of Beasts of Shadows #1

Monterey, CA

Though Ravi Nayres and I lived only three blocks from each other, our lives were very different. He attended the Pacific Grove school system, while I went to Monterey. We didn’t formally meet until second grade, when I got into a fistfight at the playground with Marisol.

I’m not really sure what we were arguing about. Something to do with the swings. Either way, I pulled out a chunk of Marisol’s extensions, and Ravi scrubbed my face with sand in retaliation.

Somehow, that day ended with ice cream and two new friends.

We were the Three Amigos throughout elementary school.

They taught me basic Spanish and how to cook and dance.

Ravi hated it, but he knew all the steps.

Their mom was a showgirl in Vegas before she settled down with their computer nerd stepdad.

In middle school, if we weren’t at the beach surfing, we were getting high and wandering Jacks Peak Park.

I was eleven when I realized I had a crush on Ravi; twelve when I knew for certain my crush was unrequited. Ravi hooked up first with Alana Soothsayer, and then Scarlett Holmes. There were others after that, but I stopped counting.

It hurt, but Ravi was one of those troubled bad boys that dumb girls like me found irresistible.

He was expelled twice for bringing drugs to school, and sent to juvie for a month after allegedly inciting a fight in the Carmel-by-the-Sea shopping district.

The whole thing had the news squawking about gang violence finally trickling in from Los Angeles. But it wasn’t anything like that.

Marisol and I had the tempers. Azalea had a loudmouth. Well-meaning Ravi just took the fall for us. There was something endearing about that.

Things changed junior year. My acne cleared up and my ethnic curls and curves drew eyes. I swapped out security blanket hoodies and baggy pants for short-shorts and crop tops. I even joined the cheer team with Azalea. And Ravi—Ravi finally noticed me.

After years of seeing him chase this girl and that, it felt good to know he was jealous; to have his eyes each time one of the basketball players flirted.

I kept him on a string all year, enjoying this newfound power.

I remember the exact moment I caved. My school was visiting the local aquarium, and Ravi was there. Standing before the sea turtle tank, he took my hand. Just that. He didn’t say anything romantic or try to kiss me. He just held my hand.

And yes, a part of me suspected he only did it to make someone else jealous. But I didn’t care. That afternoon, I found myself in the back of his car, losing my virginity.

Do I regret making Ravi my first partner? Even now?

No.

Perhaps I should. It’s not like we were a couple after that. If anything, it made things more awkward. I barely saw Ravi through May and into early June. He was suddenly “too busy” to hang out, and I got the gist quick enough.

Did I kill him over losing my virginity and then being totally ghosted? No. It sucked, but was hardly murder worthy.

My visions started just as the school year ended. It was the first day of summer break, and I was sprawled on a towel in the sand in frayed shorts, a bikini top, and an ebony and gold eyelet dress. My skin was just starting its summer descent into a golden mocha, and I felt good about things.

Until someone dropped a stuffie on my belly.

I frowned, sitting up and holding the toy to get a better look. It was a sea turtle. A cheap thing from one of the carnival games along the Old Fisherman’s Wharf.

I scrunched my nose and shifted, lifting my hand against the sun’s glare to spot Ravi with a grin on his stupid face.

“What’s this?” I demanded.

“I won it,” he declared, dropping into the sand beside me.

“Okay. But I stopped collecting stuffed animals before we even met.”

“First, it’s cute that Mutt ever collected stuffed animals.”

I flushed.

“And second,” he bumped my shoulder, “it made me think of you.”

Ravi had a fantastic grin, and it was plastered on his cheeks as he waited for a reaction. His floppy mop of wind-tossed hair raven danced over his forehead, making him look even more attractive.

I had to swallow hard to keep my nerves away. I turned the toy over this way and that, trying to think of some clever response. Something that hid how nervous I suddenly was.

“This…ugly, cowardly thing made you think of me?”

“No.” He tangled his fingers with mine in the sand and bumped me again. “This majestic, fierce, endangered creature made me think of you.”

“Endangered?” I laughed, aware of the way my fingers curled into his. How good they felt laced together.

“I was thinking…rare. Special.”

I couldn’t help but kiss him at that. There was no way around it. It was a cautious peck that Ravi happily transitioned into hot and steamy when he wound his fingers in my hair and brought me closer.

I might love him, I thought with horror. I was awash in warmth, about to ask if he wanted to get out of there, when he pulled back and looked completely unlike himself.

Ravi’s normal tan was pale and bluish; his face horrifically bloated, as though he was suffering from an allergic reaction. Or as if he’d stayed too long in the bath. I almost didn’t recognize him.

When he opened his mouth to speak, seaweed and fish spilled onto my bare legs.

I wrenched away, blinked, and things were back to normal.

“What’s wrong?” Ravi chuckled. “I’m not that bad of a kisser.”

“No.” I trie to get my pulse under control. “I just thought I saw…”

I couldn’t speak the words. I couldn’t admit out loud to something so outlandish. Ravi would tease me mercilessly, and he was just beginning to warm up to me again.

“Never mind,” I lied, tucking the stuffed turtle under my arm. “I love it. Thanks.”

“Welcome.” He dropped all the way back in the sand to bask in the afternoon light.

I’d hoped the whole thing was a fluke. Some weird daydream brought on by excessive heat, stress, and hormones.

I told myself that the second time it happened. And the third. The sights only became more persistent. More violent.

I nearly pissed myself in the grocery store two weeks later. Azalea was busy trying to get her cousin to sell us beer for the beach party that night. Audrey and Marisol were ogling cheap sarongs. I had a hankering for poke, and was hoping to find some in the deli.

I took a turn too sharply and smacked right into another apparition. It had to have been the seventh, by that point, and it was the worst one yet.

I was no longer in the grocery store at all.

Rather, I was on the beach by Asilomar Dunes.

The sea was raging, pitching against the shore.

I had to jump back to avoid an in-coming swell.

Further down the way, red flags wavered in the whipping wind, promising dangerous rip tides if one ventured into the frothing.

It felt like early morning. Maybe eight or nine.

There weren’t many people around, which made sense, given the weather.

Spent sparklers and beer bottles littered the ground, telling me it was close to the Fourth of July. Tourists always get rowdy during the holidays, ignoring the firework bans across the state parks.

“Giiiiinger.”

I turned back to the surf, horrified to find Ravi walking slowly backward into the sea; into the dangerous waves that would clearly pull him under.

“Ravi, don’t!” I shouted.

I tried to run after him, but it was like being trapped in gooey amber. I barely moved, and soon enough, his head was bobbing in the distance.

“No!” I shrieked, waving my arms against the force holding me in place, only to realize it was Audrey.

“Calm down, killer!” She exclaimed.

My vision cleared, and I found myself outside the grocery store, standing in the middle of the parking lot with a horn blaring for me to get out of the way. Azalea waited along the sidewalk, gawking.

“What’s wrong with you?” Marisol mouthed.

How could I explain it? A psychotic episode? That had to be it, but a trip to the psych ward was the last thing I needed.

“I’m calling your mom,” Audrey declared, leading me out of the road.

I was still shaking twenty minutes later when my parents showed up. They pampered me and sent me to bed—as if any of it was normal.

“Probably got some mushrooms from that Nayres boy,” Mom said while I listened on the stairs of our 1903 Colonial Revival. “She’ll feel better after a night of rest.”

Except I didn’t. Fourth of July came and went, and I was a nervous wreck the entire time. Every pop pop had me jumping.

I begged Ravi to sleep at my house that night. I didn’t even mind when he wanted to get frisky. I figured it was better than leaving him alone and risking him wandering out into the ocean.

It doesn’t make sense, I decided as I lay curled beside Ravi’s sleeping form. Why would he even go into the water? He’s lived here most of his life—he knows exactly when to avoid the surf. The last time a tourist drowned that way, Ravi spent an hour ragging on her for ignoring the warnings.

“Ravi,” I hissed after tossing and turning for an hour. I gave him a little shake. “Ravi!”

“Mm?”

“Promise me you’ll stay out of the water tomorrow.”

When Ravi remained silent, I gave another nudge.

He shifted, dragging me into his arms.

“Promise me you won’t go into the water if there’s a storm.”

“Mutt, what do you take me for?” He wondered, breath hot on my neck.

“An idiot,” I retorted.

He nipped my ear.

“Your idiot.”

Warmth spread through my chest at that. ‘Your idiot.’ Did that mean anything special? Were we a couple? A real one?

My fears replaced by fantasies, I fell into a contented sleep.

And when the day after Independence Day dawned bright and sunny, I thought, It’s over. It was all just an epic freak-out. Mom and dad were right—it’s just stress.

Ravi took me on a proper date that day. When his friends from school came upon us at the ice cream shop, he threw his arms over my shoulders and called me his girl.

It was like a daydream, far more pleasant than my previous waking nightmares. I floated through Cloud Nine all day.

It’s over, I chanted intermittently into the evening. It’s all over. I’m not crazy. Overly stressed, maybe, but I can’t see the future.

I fell asleep like a contented house cat.

∞∞∞

Today , I knew as soon as I woke the next morning.

All the visions, all the panic attacks—they were leading up to that day. July sixth. I could feel the ravaging gale in my soul. Every joint ached, as though I’d been tense throughout the evening. I wanted to puke.

I didn’t need to check the forecast to know a storm was coming in.

That morning, despite knowing the dangers of Poseidon his whole life, despite promising me he’d avoid choppy waters, Ravi Nayres would take a swim at Asilomar Beach.

And it would be his last.

I dressed in a hurry, determined to get to Ravi’s before he could hit the waves.

Determined to save him.